Unlocking South Park
by TaroTsujimoto
Summary: The kids are pulled into an investigation when a weary yet eccentric traveller named The Doctor notices that things aren't adding up in South Park.
1. The Return

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the rights to South Park or Doctor Who. And to paraphrase South Park: All characters and events in this story- even those based on real people- are entirely [fan] fictional.  
**Warning: **South Park-level vulgarity. I figured the best rating was T, but if you think otherwise, feel free to let me know. Not trying to offend.  
**AN: **First attempt at writing Fan Fiction.I like to fancy myself as a writer, but have been busy pursuing other things lately, and haven't had a chance to explore that. This is my effort to kick-start the writer in me again. And so, here goes nothing:

**Unlocking South Park**

**1. The Return**

He had no idea where to go next.

He'd seen the creature, he was sure. Clearly South Park was the right choice. It really was the last best chance to find it. But what now?

It was a dimly lit night, fog rolling across Stark's Pond, barely illuminated by a crescent moon. And he'd shielded himself in the nearby woods to avoid detection. But there was no mistaking the silhouette he saw. When it came out of the Pond, it came out of a dream, a nightmare. His nightmare.

It was bizarre then, that the first feeling he felt toward seeing this manifest nightmare was delight. For a beastly creature, it was actually quite wondrous, even beautiful. Its fur trapped beads of water that glistened in the moonlight as it rose from the depths of the pond. It's claws reflecting delicate strength. He wanted to hug it, hold it, embrace it like his Teddy Bear Ike.

But reality set in, this was the beast he'd spent a lifetime chasing. There was no time to admire it. The American Public was at risk again. But why, why did it return back to South Park? What did it want? What is here?

No matter what its motives, he had to do something. It could strike at any moment. Or even worse, leave. And then he'd have no proof. Again! Clearly, there was one thing to do. He'd have to be courageous enough to take a picture.

Even with the low quality camera on his iPhone, it'd be proof. He dug it out of the camouflaged coat's pocket and unlocked it. Immediately it started playing loud, vulgar death metal. He blushed, despite having convinced himself he was proud of the music. His ex-wife never let him listen to anything this hardcore. He was so hardcore. Super hardcore. And he could listen to anything he wanted to now, with her out of the picture.

Speaking of pictures, his was running away. Obviously this monstrosity had the same aversion to super hardcore music as his ex-wife. Perhaps there was a connection. He'd have to take note of that, run tests on her.

But now was the time to think fast. He had to catch it. It couldn't get away, it couldn't elude him again! He decided he needed backup and started texting.

Before he finished, he glanced back up. The beast was gone, completely out of sight.

He instinctively took off after it, following the tracks in the snow the hooves had left behind. As he was running, he kept typing. He finished the text, and hit send.

"South Park CO. It's here! Super Serial."

Dammit, why is auto correct always changing serious to serial! But he didn't have time to correct it.

He looked up as soon as he confirmed it had sent, but he couldn't stop in time. He plowed right into it, whatever it was. He didn't get a good look, and fell backwards into the snow.

Al Gore could feel his best chance to catch ManBearPig, and his consciousness, fading.


	2. The Retreat

**2. The Retreat**

He had no idea where to go next.

The Doctor knew, as he sat sullenly at the seating adjacent from the TARDIS control console, that he couldn't honor his latest, and yet first, companion's request. He couldn't go back and tell the younger Amelia Pond about her life to come. It'd be crossing his own time stream, because she was waiting for him.

River Song dismissed herself beforehand as well, and so he just… sat. The TARDIS not moving, everything still, silent. He had almost all of time and space he could be in, but none of this was good enough, because the only time and space he wanted was in that 'almost.' He genuinely felt lost without the Ponds.

What was an adventure without someone to share it with? Nothing is worth anything in a vacuum, not even the last Timelord in the last TARDIS.

Well he had that, the TARDIS. Sexy. He had Sexy. Before he could catch himself, he was smiling, remembering fondly back to the time when Sexy came to life. Well, the TARDIS is always alive, but when she spoke with the Doctor.

But as soon as the smile seemed familiar, it washed off his face. He'd almost lost Amy then too. And now he had forever. Sure, Amy had lived a great life, likely a happy one like she said. Maybe he should stop taking Companions. They're always leaving. He always outlasts them. Even before he was himself, before he regenerated into the Doctor, he felt the pain of his previous incarnations' loss. The companions they lost to time in some way. Having a companion was unreliable.

Reliable. The word alone reminded him again of the time the TARDIS and he spoke.

_"You didn't always take me where I wanted to go_," he had told her, Idris, Sexy, the TARDIS, whatever was the best way to think of her non-corporeal, corporeal self.

_"No, but I always took you where you needed to go,"_ she had said back hastily.

The Doctor stood up, as if he were partially recharged with this memory. He stood over the control panel thinking, his shoulders hunched as if letting go of the console would cause him to collapse.

"Alright Sexy, fine. Where do I need to go?" he asked his speechless counterpart softly. With that, he closed his eyes, threw a few levers immediately in front of him, and stepped away from the controls as the TARDIS lurched back and forth in the time vortex.

It was a chaotic trip through the vortex at that. Sexy was entirely displeased with having no destination but her own whims. But this was all the Doctor had left. He and his TARDIS. The TARDIS and her Timelord.

A giant lurch sent him pitching forward off the railing onto the ground face first.

"Ah! A little less rough please, Sexy!" said the battered Timelord.

And then, as if she heard him, the TARDIS stopped. Landed. All was silent. Where was he? One sure way to find out. The Doctor picked himself up, dusted himself off, straightened his bowtie, and walked toward the door. Before he got to it, there was a thud from his left. Something hit the exterior of the TARDIS.

Finally, something to bury his mind into! The Doctor swung open the door and stepped out of his TARDIS. It was dark and cold. Snow crunched beneath his feet as a sliver of moon showed the partial landscape – woodsy, with a pond nearby. The scene, combined with the specific moon, told the Doctor he was on Earth. He licked at the air, trying to get a bearing on exactly what year it was.

Being able to see the stars meant it was before the Great and Bountiful Human Empires, and he couldn't taste the corrosive fallout from the Third World War in the air. So that put him somewhere before 2046 AD. There was also a familiar metallic taste to the air. The taste of blood. Something must be bleeding.

The thud!

He'd completely forgotten about it, the mystery. He turned to his left, to the side of the TARDIS, and saw a man lying on the ground, rubbing the side of his head. The man looked to be middle-aged, his hair graying. But more than that, judging by the suit and how well-groomed he was, he must have been someone of some wealth. Generally that didn't sit well with the Doctor, but there was something entirely disheveled and almost… pathetic… about this man. It almost made him a sympathetic character.

As the Doctor stood, analyzing the man, the man looked up at him. He jumped to his feet at being observed and grabbed the Doctor by the shoulders.

"Which way did it go!?" he asked, his voice cracking in desperation.

"It? What is…" before the Doctor can finish, the man shakes him.

"ManBearPig stupid! It was just here! Oh nevermind!" The man stormed off, leaving the Doctor to simply stand there in a bit of disbelief. What was he talking about?

The Doctor was still processing the strange ManBearPig… man… when he heard a muffled voice from behind him.

"Hem," it seemed to say. It was a young, soft voice. It sounded pained. The Doctor spun on one foot to address the voice.

"What was that, who's there?" The Doctor's head darted around, looking through the dark trying to find the voice.

"Heh…" the voice managed, but a cough that carried with it a gurgle took his voice. Then silence. A painful, fearful silence that made the Doctor assume the worst.

And that's when he saw him. His head and an outstretched hand were the only thing cleared from underneath the TARDIS. The boy was motionless, his orange parka in distressing contrast to the impossible blue box. He was crushed underneath, crimson blood seeping to his sides.

"No…" The Doctor gasped, sliding to his knees to attend to the boy. He looked for a pulse, for any sign of life. Nothing. This boy was dead underneath his TARDIS. The concern melted from the Doctor's face, and he jumped up to his feet, repeating his last words, but in shouted anger.

"No! No no no no!" He spun around while screaming, ending up facing the TARDIS. His voice now carried anger, unrelenting anger, but somehow that made his voice quieter. As if, instead of carrying punches, his words carried acid. "What… have you done! I let you make one decision and this is what happens! You killed him! I don't even know who he was and you killed him!"

He stormed into the TARDIS, still shouting at his Sexy as he slammed her door closed. He couldn't believe this. One thing, he needed one thing from his counterpart, and she couldn't carry that out. He was lost, and now his being lost had taken someone else. Taken someone else's Amelia Pond or Rory Williams or Donna Noble or… whoever! His selfish indecisiveness killed. The man who keeps running ran over a kid!

"It's just like…" that's when he froze himself, mid rant, something catching his eye. His arm was paused, lifted exasperatedly toward the console. His entire body was as if he were a mannequin, moved into an angry pose. His gaze had caught something odd on the console monitor. It was supposed to display the year that the TARDIS landed. However, the numbers kept changing. The date was not fixed. The TARDIS was uncertain what year it was.

He slowly softened his posture, raising his eyebrows in curiosity while taking a few steps to study the monitor more carefully, leaning onto the console.

"Now I know why you brought me here," he said in an almost involuntary breath to the TARDIS while he continued thinking. But his studies were interrupted quickly by pounding at the TARDIS door. Two voices, screaming but obviously young, were muffled on the other side of the door.

"Oh my God! You killed Kenny!"

"You Bastard!"


	3. What's a Police Box?

**3. "What's a Police Box?"**

"No dude… it's that Al Gore guy again. He called me and said ManBearPig was back." Stan Marsh was sitting at the foot of his bed talking on his phone, his voice lethargic. At the mention of Al Gore's name, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "He said it was, _'super serial'_ that I come out with him tonight and help him look." As he quoted Gore, his voice partly took on the Vice President's inflection for sarcastic affect.

"Yeah, but he's crazy. Why should we even help him? He almost killed us last time we saw him, in case you forgot," said the voice on the other end of the line, punching with staccato anger. Kyle could hold a grudge, Stan already knew that. But it seemed like years since Al Gore had almost killed them, and even after that huge calamity, no one took him seriously.

"I don't know Kyle, I mean, no one takes him seriously. I feel bad. He's got no friends and no credibility. Would it kill us to make him feel a little better?"

"Yes Stan, it would. It almost did last time." Kyle's voice was slow, patronizing. As if punctuated with an unspoken, _'well, duh.'_

"Look, Kenny and Butters are already coming. We both know if I go, you're going. So let's skip the argument and just agree to meet me there." There was silence over the phone for a few seconds. Then the reply, carrying a slight bit of hopelessness inside its usual angry tone.

"Fine. Where and when?"

"Stark's Pond at 7 pm. Thanks."

"Yeah," it was a sharp reply, but Stan knew Kyle didn't mean it as bitterly as it sounded. That was just how he came off sometimes.

* * *

Stan arrived at Stark's Pond fifteen minutes late. His Mom wouldn't stop pestering with questions about where he was going and who he was with.

As Stan walked up, Kyle was waiting, looking slightly miffed. Kyle was fairly punctual, but Stan on the other hand, not as much. Stan gave him a smile, hoping that would suffice as apology, and it seemed to.

"Where's everyone?" Stan said as he walked up to Kyle, sitting alone on the bench overlooking the placid pond.

"Gore told us to split up. He said he thought he saw a glimpse of it walking up, and ran off into the woods that way shouting, 'Excelsior,'" Kyle pointed with a green mitten toward the forest. "Kenny and Butters teamed up and went that way, and Al Gore told me to stay and wait for you and then go that way," Kyle pointed in nearly the opposite direction of the area.

"Oh. Kay," Stan said, starting to walk off, shoes crunching in the snow. Kyle hopped off the bench and joined him, pulling out a flashlight from his jacket pocket.

"You know there's no such thing as a ManBearPig, right Stan? I mean, supernatural magic stuff like that doesn't exist."

"Well, yeah, there's no such thing as a ManBearPig, I know. But still, it won't kill us to look around and make him fe-" Stan's speech was interrupted by a familiar shouting from the woods. It was Al Gore, using his ManBearPig call, which was just him shouting, "groan," to try and lure out the mythical beast. Stan looked back at Kyle. "You're right, this is totally stupid. Sorry."

"It's… fine. I wasn't doing anything tonight anyway," Kyle replied, his voice softening. It was a lie though; Kyle had been writing an extra-credit paper for Garrison's 4th Grade class. He worked through dinner on it, forgoing food. It was a stupid topic anyway; a 3 page essay on why the upcoming elections were rigged by white men to keep women down. It sucked for the class that Garrison hadn't left his gender inferiority complex behind when he got a second gender change. But Kyle couldn't bring himself to tell Stan that he was an inconvenience, especially since, while it was stupid, Stan was trying to be a nice guy to a stranger.

They continued walking along the shore of Stark's Pond, a fraction of attention looking around for something, but mostly, just walking in silence. Kyle wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to stay warm, causing the flashlight to point mostly away from the boys' path. But since they weren't looking anyway, it hardly mattered.

Stan couldn't help but feel bad for Kyle, the poor kid rarely ever said no to Stan. Of course, Stan was guilty of the same thing. They were super best friends, and to Stan, it made sense that they rarely fought with each other.

As Stan contemplated their friendship, Kyle contemplated Al Gore. How stupid was this loser of a former politician that he had no friends to go out looking for some made up monster with him? Who would believe in a ManBearPig anyway? Of all the stupid things the grown ups do, hunting for a ManBearPig has got to be the dumbest. Why was he still out here? Kyle was thinking about just telling Stan he was leaving, when Stan put his hand against Kyle's chest.

"Wait dude, stop," Stan said in a hushed tone, implying that he was listening for something. As both boys stood still, Kyle could now hear it too. A mechanical scraping sound, like someone pushing rusty pipes together.

"What the hell is that?" Kyle asked softly, more breath than voice, as it fogged into the Colorado night.

Before Stan could reply, there was a thud of something impacting the ground. Everything was still for a moment before a scream punched the air. Both boys recognized it immediately.

It was Butters.

They sprinted toward the sound of the scream, flashlight searching in front of them for any sign of their incredibly innocent friend. Finally he showed up in the light beam. He almost ran by them in panic though. Stan grabbed him before he could get further.

"Butters! Butters! Butters! What is it?" Stan inventoried his face, and the sheer panic on the naïve face wasn't an uncommon expression for Butters to wear.

"It's… It's Kenny! There was this blue…box, oh gosh!" was Butters' choked out reply before jerking his way out of Stan's grasp and fleeing back towards home.

Stan and Kyle exchanged worried glances before resuming their pace deeper into the woods. Whatever had happened, it sounded like Kenny had gotten the worst of it. With each fall of Stan's feet, a pang of guilt shot through his chest. Whatever caused Butter's panic, whatever happened to Kenny, it was his fault. He was the one who let Al Gore talk him into coming back out here. Kyle was right.

After a few seconds of running, they heard a voice. The boys slowed their pace instinctively to a walk, to examine the voice and situation more closely before entering the fray. It was a new voice. Not Kenny, not Al Gore. Someone else.

"British," Kyle said between deep inhales of air. Both boys were in a sweat, either from the dash, or in fear.

"Yeah…" was all Stan could say.

As the boys topped a small hill, they saw the scene. A silhouette of a man pacing alongside a large blue box.

"It says… Police Box. What's a Police Box?" Kyle asked, trying to analyze the situation.

Stan was listening to the words from the man though.

"…I don't even know who he was and you killed him!" He heard the British voice say. Stan was pure reaction. He grabbed Kyle and yanked him down the hill toward the man and the blue box. Stan knew this was bad. Was Kenny dead? Is that what he heard? No way he's dead.

Kyle stumbled forward, and slid partially down the hill, but caught himself before completely tumbling with a stiffened leg and fell in line right behind Stan. Kyle noticed the man disappear into the box with a slam of the door before they reached the bottom of the hill.

Kyle was looking over the box, which is why Stan saw him first, his orange parka giving away his location.

"Kenny… no!" Stan gasped, his voice strained and unbelieving as he fell to his knees. Kyle arrived to Stan's side a second later, his only reaction to put his hand on Stan's shoulder, both in support of Stan and to keep himself from falling over from the weak feeling suddenly in his knees.

There he was, one of their oldest and best friends, trapped under this blue box. His hand outstretched, reaching for safety that never came. His eyes closed, his face hidden under his hood.

They stayed like that stunned for what seemed like an eternity. After Stan fully realized the situation, his body tensed. His hands balled into fists. He was keeping himself from crying, but only barely. He stood up quickly and did the only thing he could think to do: he began banging on the door of the box in desperation.

"Oh my God! You killed Kenny!" Stan shouted, his voice carrying his emotions.

Hearing Stan so hurt and vulnerable, so sad and unhinged, made Kyle put aside his sadness, and pure anger flashed over him when he heard Stan's broken voice. Kyle joined Stan in banging on the door.

"You Bastard!"

The boys kept pounding on the door. Stan out of futility. He had to do something, he couldn't break down and cry about this right now. He felt he had to figure it out. Kyle was pure anger, he would break down this damn door if the bastard didn't show his face.

And then he did.

The door swung inwardly open and both boys, the momentum from their banging fists now working against them, throwing them forward and into the blue box. Kyle was first on his feet, and he pointed a mitted finger up at the man standing there, inches from them, the door handle still in his hand. Kyle wasn't even looking at him, or at the room he was in. His seething anger just forcing him into uncontrollable rage.

"Who the fuck do you think you are and why did you just kill our friend! How did you do it! Did you push this on him? What the fuck. I'll kill you, you Bastard!

Stan was slightly more composed. The adrenaline was making his emotions subside, rather than overwhelm. Something was way off about everything. First the man, a young man in an ugly looking suit and a ridiculous red bowtie. Something about the way he stood seemed off too. The expression on his face looked puzzled, as if he had no idea of their dead friend outside the door of the room,

And that was the other thing that was off. They were standing in the doorway of a gigantic, bright, bronze room. Stan couldn't see much beyond the man, but the scale was way off. On the outside, it was a small box, big enough to just stand in. On the inside, it was a huge room.

Kyle continued to rant, but Stan just put his hand on his shoulder to settle him. Kyle stopped ranting, and turned toward the touch. He looked incredulously at Stan, having to soften his glare before he lasered a hole through his best friend's head.

"What!?" even after taking a second to relax, Kyle was still furious, and his voice showed it.

"Dude," was all Stan could manage to say. He pointed with his red mitten toward the scene in front of them. Kyle took it all in and staggered back a half step. His face still had an expression of anger, but suddenly, he had forgotten why. Everything that happened before was wiped away from his memory, replaced with the wonder of what he was staring at. A room impossibly big.

"Holy shit dude… It's… bigger on the inside," Kyle managed, disbelievingly. With this, the man broke into a smile.

"Hello." He said, clearly the owner of the British voice. "I'm the Doctor."


	4. fraidy Cats

**4. 'fraidy Cats**

Butters was sitting on the curb outside of Tweek Bros. Coffee Shop, his hands rolling over themselves in nervousness as his brain rolled just as fast. He couldn't believe himself, running away like that. He's always such a 'fraidy cat.

His Dad had always told him that the British were no good Socialists and haters of America, but the mysterious man in the bowtie hadn't seemed that mean. In fact, Butters couldn't remember any conversation at all. He just saw him, and the blue box, and ran.

Butters was lost, deep in thought, and that's why the hand on his arm not only jolted him into reality, but caused him to jolt up in panic with a scream.

"Gah!"

"Gah!" The scream was echoed, followed by an, "Oh Jesus!" Butters spun around to find the fidgeting figure of Tweek Tweak. Tweek had taken a few steps back, and was practically panting in fear.

"Oh gosh, sorry there Tweak, you snuck up on me there, heh" Butters said.

Tweek's head twitched as he responded, "No, no, it's okay. Sorry to… sneak. You just looked…" Tweeks head snaps again as he finishes the statement, "like you were feeling like shit."

"Well, yeah, I guess I was feeling a little sorry for myself."

"What happened?"

Butters sighed and sat back down onto the curb again. "Well, I was in the woods with Stan and Kyle and Al Gore and we were looking for ManBearPig, and I found this… gee I don't know, box… and there was this British guy who came out of it and it scared me," Butters said, his voice calming down. When he said it out loud, it sounded dumb, but Tweek actually nodded, as if in understanding. Or maybe he just twitched in an up and down direction, Butters couldn't be sure until Tweek spoke up.

"Shit, British people are so rude, gah! I think they're out to get us or something."

"Well gee, really? He seemed nice enough."

"Maybe he wasn't British then," Tweek quipped through shallow breaths. Butters crooked his head, pondering. Maybe he wasn't British. Why did he think he was British, there had to be something? He hadn't spoken with him, or heard him say anything, as far as he could remember.

As Butters stood there, his phone went off, a loud chime and buzz signaling a new text message. Butters dug into his pocket as Tweek let out another, "Gah!" and flinched. As Butters opened the message he saw it was from Stan, and read it to himself.

Tweek stared at him as he read the message; waiting a moment before saying, "Don't leave me in suspense! What's it say?"

"They said they're with the British dude and want me to meet up with them."

"Gah! British dude. He sounds like trouble. Don't go man!"

Butters looked over Tweek. He couldn't believe that Tweek was this stressed out about Butters' problems. Butters might be a 'fraidy cat, but Tweek was a much 'fradier cat. And then Butters remembered a Bible story his dad had read him once, about helping the blind man see. Well, maybe Tweek's fear was making him blind, and it was Butters' job to help him see.

Plus Butters honestly didn't want to walk alone anymore tonight. He went alone to Stark's Pond and look what that got him, a nervous fit over nothing.

"I think…" Butters said, kicking the ground. It just wasn't in Butters' nature to be assertive, but gosh darn it, his friend Tweek needed him. "I think it'll be okay. And you're uhh…" Butters raised his voice and stared into Tweek's eyes. "Well, you're coming with me mister! You can't be afraid of everything all the time!"

"Jesus what!" Tweek blurted out. "No, no way dude. Gah, you go, that's sounds like too much…"

Butters grabbed both of Tweeks arms, "don't you say it Tweek! You're gonna be brave and strong!"

Before Tweek could object, Butters tugged him forward, grabbing his hand, and practically dragging him down the street.


	5. Who is the President?

**5. Who is the President?**

The Doctor remained still as the two boys stood in his doorway. The one in the green hat seemed to be soaking in the entirety of the TARDIS. He hadn't said anything since, "It's bigger on the inside." He hadn't moved either.

The one in the blue hat had come to terms with the TARDIS it seemed, and instead trained his eyes on The Doctor himself, as if he could read what he was all about if he stared at the bowtie long enough.

The Doctor rocked on his feet in anticipation of them saying something, before finally giving in and deciding to start the conversation over.

"Right, so, why are you boys banging on my TARDIS door? General misfits? I love misfits!"

Kyle slowly rolled his head back in the Doctor's direction, clearly not ready to talk yet. So it was left to Stan, who mentally conceded that he was probably the more social of the pair anyway.

"I'm Stan, this is Kyle," he said, gesturing toward his speechless friend. The Doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Kyle was finally up to speed, and went for the first question that popped into his mind.

"The Doctor? What does that even mean? Doctor who? Doctor of what? I've seen doctors, you don't look like any of them," his tone was accusatory, but it had softened considerably. Now instead of sharp accents, his words flowed together in a more soothing tone.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. This kid was quick, usually it takes a few conversations, if ever, before they ask that. He couldn't help but smile before replying.

"Well, I'm not quite sure. I'm a Doctor of everything I guess. I don't know. A mad name for a mad man in a Blue Box."

Stan responded almost immediately with the most important question on his mind. "This isn't just a Blue Box, is it?"

"Well, no. And yes. It's… complicated," The Doctor stepped to the side and pointed toward a few seats next to the console. "Well, you guys are already inside I guess, why don't you have a seat.

The boys looked to each other, unsure if this was a good idea. They had no idea who this man was, or where they were. The whole thing seemed impossible. But both boys had seen their fair share of adventures, and this seemed relatively safe. Stan stepped forward first, and Kyle fell in line behind him as they proceeded cautiously up the metal stairs and took seats across from the console. Despite the available space, the two boys sat right next to each other. The Doctor noticed this, and filed it away into the back of his mind to analyze later.

The Doctor followed them up the stairs and glanced at the console. The date, still changing on his display, grabbed his attention again. He didn't have time for Twenty Questions with the boys; he had to figure out what was going on. He leaned his back against the console, staring at the pair, deciding how to approach the situation.

"Yes, Blue Box, it's all mysterious, but I have a better question for you boys: Who is The President right now?"

Kyle tilted his head to the side and squinted in disbelief. How could this man have no idea who The President was? Even if he is British, it seemed impossible not to know who the President is.

Where Kyle's reaction was confusion, Stan's was amusement. He leaned back slightly and gave a smirk. Clearly this mysterious Doctor wasn't very smart.

Both boys looked at each other. Their gazes meeting briefly, as if asking each other if they should entertain this absurd question. Both glances saying, 'why not,' they turned back toward the Doctor and answered in unison.

"George W. Bush," Stan said.

"Barack Obama, " Kyle said.

They both snapped back toward each other, and this time, the puzzled looks were caused by the other boy, rather than the mysterious Doctor. It only took a second for the boys to think they'd realized the error, and they turned back to the Doctor and tried again, just as before, in unison.

"Barack Obama," Stan said, correcting himself to Stan's original answer.

"Bill Clinton," Kyle said, assured that this time he had sorted it out in his head.

Once again, the boys turned to each other in bewilderment. The Doctor, meanwhile, clapped his hands and turned his head to the console again with a smile. How could they both not know who the President was? Not knowing was as delightful

"What the hell dude! Who is the President?" Kyle pointedly asked his best friend.

"I don't know. I mean, I knew it was Bush, then I knew it was Obama. And I think you're right, I think it's Clinton."

"It's not Clinton, he's out, it's gotta be Bush," Kyle responded.

"No way dude! Well… maybe." Stan squinted his eyebrows in growing confusion. "What the hell!"

The Doctor turned himself back to face the two boys. They seemed to be just as confused as the TARDIS about when they were.

But what would be causing this sort of temporal problem? He had to leave, look for clues, figure out what was going on. And that's exactly what the Doctor did, pushing himself off the console with his palms and heading down the stairs hurriedly toward the TARDIS door. He shoved it wide open and stepped out, closing it behind him.

Something was nagging the back of his mind though, as if he forgot something. He shrugged it off; it wasn't important, there were things to do.

Then the TARDIS door opened and the two boys stepped out. The one in the blue hat, Stan, shouted at him.

"Dude, what the hell, where are you going!"

Oh yeah, the boys, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten them. They were the most important clues he had so far. He spun around, almost slipping in the snow.

"Sorry, sorry, you're right!" He shouted back, his breath billowing into the cold winter night. "It's just; there are things to do! There's something not right here. Actually, that's a good point," The Doctor rushed back over to them, sliding to a stop, stooping over and grabbing Kyle by the shoulders, staring intently into his eyes and lowering his voice. "Have you noticed anything strange? Has anyone noticed anything strange? Said anything… unbelievable?"

Kyle furrowed his brow in anger and glared at the Doctor. Whatever his problems were, Kyle didn't like being grabbed by a strange man. Meanwhile, Stan skeptically replied back to the Doctor's question.

"Well, there's ManBearPig…"

Kyle let out an involuntary, "Oh Christ," and bowed his head in frustration..

The Doctor let go of Kyle and pivoted to face Stan. He's heard the word before, from the man he first met outside his TARDIS door after he landed.

"Of course! ManBearPig! That's it, it's… wait…" The Doctor paused and looked upwards, as if searching through his mental database. "What's a ManBearPig?" he asked, slowly enunciating each syllable of the word. It was Kyle's turn to respond, and his brows were still furrowed, the sharpness to his accents returning.

"It's just some stupid made-up creature that Al Gore…"

The doctor interrupted. "But what if it's not made up?" He popped back entirely upright. "We have to find that ManBearPig!"

Kyle had had it. He was cold and hungry, and he wasn't following another crazy asshole on a wild ManBearPig chase, even if he was a crazy asshole with a magic box.

"You find him dude, I'm going to go find something to eat. I haven't eaten all night."

Stan saw the anger in Kyle's eyes, and he felt that twinge of guilt again. Stan had ruined Kyle's evening, and while that shouldn't have been enough to bother Stan, it apparently was. Kyle had conceded to joining his pity search with Al Gore, now it was time for Stan to concede to Kyle.

"Yeah… uhh, Doctor, I'm going with Kyle. You can look for ManBearPig if you want. "

The Doctor's shoulders sagged in disappointment. These two boys, who seemed so clever and curious, were walking out on a great mystery.

"You can't just go!" The Doctor shouted at them. "Don't you want to know what this ManBearPig is?"

Kyle was already walking off. Without turning his head he shouted back at the Doctor.

"It's fake!"

Faced with losing the only potential guides he met, and his only clues so far as to what was going on, the Doctor lurched forward and caught up with the boys. Trying to make his temporary feeling of defeat recede, he commented, "I guess I could eat something too then." He had no real interest in eating, but he needed some excuse to follow them.

"Great." Kyle said flatly, not changing his pace at all. Stan rolled his eyes. Whenever one of the grownups was following them around, it usually meant trouble.

As the trio walked out of the woods, toward the only visible streetlight, none of them noticed an opportunistic, shadowy figure slide into the open TARDIS and close the door.


	6. Funny Markings

**6. Funny Markings**

"At least he's coming here. You know, it's really lame to ask me to chase ManBearPig. But it's even lamer that he never showed up," Kyle said as he raised a glass of water to his mouth and sipped through a straw.

"Yeah, but at least Kenny wouldn't be lame enough to forget his money at home, and make his best friend pay for his dinner," Stan said, sarcastically sounding angry. He, of course, was not. The boy sitting next to him in the booth was his Super Best Friend. He didn't mind buying him a plate of fries.

On the opposite side of the table were Tweek and Butters. Butters happily eating away at a plain vanilla shake. Tweek trying to keep his eyes on something his nerves could handle: the coffee cup between his hands. Whatever he could do to ignore the Doctor, who had pulled up a chair and was sitting perpendicular to the boys.

The Doctor wasn't moving. He sat slightly slumped in his chair, his arms folded. When the waitress had asked for his order, he simply replied, "we don't have that kind of time." It was easier than asking for outrageous items like fish fingers and custard. His current gaze was out the window as he mentally reviewed the information he had so far.

1) There's some sort of temporal disturbance here that is making the date unknown to both computers and memory, 2) there's a ManBearPig, and 3) he's sitting at some run-down American diner with four boys doing nothing.

Well, he knew what to do about the last thing at least.

Hopping to his feet, he pulled out the sonic screwdriver. He pointed it carelessly in no direction in particular. The device buzzing and blinking in scan mode, the Doctor slowly turned in place and watched the device as it surveyed all 360 degrees.

The screwdriver might as well have been driving into Tweek for the panic it created in him. Noisy, flashing objects were not things he enjoyed.

"Gah! What the hell is that!?"

At Tweek's observation, the boys turned to watch as the Doctor completed his spin. Stan raised his eyebrows, but otherwise watched in curiosity. Butters figured he was doing some kind of dance. And Kyle just put his hand on his forehead.

"Ugh, now what?" Kyle asked, not really wanting to know.

The Doctor didn't respond, he was too busy analyzing. The good news was that the scan did pick up something. The bad news was that it was faint. The Doctor gave the screwdriver a few taps into his left palm and tried again. Still faint. Maybe it, whatever it was, was out of range.

"I need to get on the roof," the Doctor calmly told the children.

"No you don't," Kyle tersely responded. He was seriously fed up with the grown-ups today, from the Doctor and his personality to Al Gore and ManBearPig.

"Dude, you can't just go on the roof," Stan said, his sense of logic winning out over bewilderment.

"No matter, it still might work outside," the Doctor said, his eyes wide with intrigue. He turned and trotted toward the exit. Just as he opened the door, in walked a boy in an orange parka that he took no notice of as he trotted out to the parking lot.

Stan couldn't help but notice that Kenny's entire body language was one of depression. His shoulders were hunched over, his hands in his pockets, and his head staring down at the ground. Saying nothing, he fell into the seat that the Doctor had left without saying a word. Stan looked across to Butters and Tweek. Butters also seemed to notice Kenny's melancholy demeanor. Tweek's constantly restlessness made him hard to read, but he at least didn't say anything.

Kyle also noticed Kenny's demeanor, but this didn't stop him from wanting to know where Kenny had been. He had told them he was coming along, but Kyle never saw him after that.

"Dude, what the hell happened? You said you were coming with us to deal with Al Gore?" he asked, keeping his tone as even as he could, but a little bit of bitterness coming through at the mention of Al Gore.

"Dude, fuck you," shot back at Kyle, muffled through the hood of the parka.

"Kyle, why don't you just leave him alone," Stan said, trying to ease the tension that was already building. Kyle gritted his teeth, but backed off, leaving Kenny alone. An awkward silence presided over the table until Butters finally spoke up.

"Well I don't think you missed much, Kenny. We found this really weird British guy. He seems nice though. Not an evil freedom hating socialist like my Dad says."

At the mention of the British guy, Kenny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He remembered him, barely. Kenny remembered being pinned underneath a box that crashed down upon him and crushed him beneath. He remembered Butters running away in terror. He even remembered the Doctor's screams of denial as his consciousness slipped away.

And then he remembered waking up at home, in bed.

It was an event that had been repeated several times in Kenny's life. He dies, he wakes up, and no one remembers he'd died. When he was younger, he always dismissed it as weird dreams, but finally the issue came to a head during a game of Coon and Friends. But Kenny, despite the incredible adventure the Coon and Friends had, never found out why he could die only to return to life at home.

Coon and Friends reminded Kenny of Cartman. It was always more worrisome when Cartman wasn't around. Who knows what he was doing when you didn't have an eye on him.

"Has anyone seen Cartman?" Kenny asked.

"The fatass? He's probably walking around in a ManBearPig costume ruining all of our evenings or something!" Kyle retorted. He could restrain his anger at Kenny's apparent truancy, but not toward Eric Cartman.

"Nah dude, I think his Mom was taking him to get some new iPad or something today," Stan replied.

"Oh God, man, fuck Apple," Kyle said, as Stan and Kenny both cracked up at his expense. Kyle had sworn off anything Apple after the time he didn't read the user agreement before accepting iTunes, and ended up being integrated into the HumanCentiPad.

The boys continued chatting as Kyle finished his food. After awhile, Tweek realized that it was 8 PM, and that his parents were, "going to kill him, gah!" if he didn't return home. Butters suggested they get home too, before his parents got back home from a Bible studies group they attended near Denver and grounded him. The boys pushed away from the table and walked out the door of the restaurant. Stan had to wait to pay for Kyle's dinner, but he wasn't too far behind the rest of the boys.

Tweek and Butters decided to walk home a different way, parting ways with Kyle in the parking lot. Unfortunately for Kyle, the direction he chose was also the direction the Doctor was standing in.

"Kevin! Are you finished with your… whatever it was you were doing?" The Doctor asked, excitedly when he saw the boy in the green hat.

Kyle gritted his teeth. He didn't want to respond. For one thing this Doctor apparently hadn't bothered to learn his name. But as the Doctor fell in step with him, the awkwardness was too much for him.

"Yeah, I mean, we were there for like over an hour and I was just eating. And my name is Kyle."

The Doctor abruptly stopped walking and tilted his head. It was dramatic enough to make Kyle stop too in reaction.

"What do you mean you were in there for over an hour?"

"I mean I was in there for over an hour!" Kyle groaned and held out his arms exasperatedly.

"There is no way you were in there for an hour, I just got out here."

"Dude, I'm telling you. In there. Over an hour. Ate food. It wasn't all that good, Stan, tell him."

By now Stan had caught up with Kyle and the Doctor. He stared over at Kyle.

"Tell him what?" He asked, out of earshot of the conversation."

"That we were at Benny's for over an hour."

Stan shrugged. "Well… yeah… we were."

The Doctor spun a full 360 degrees, his brown overcoat flaring out slightly as he did. He settled back on Stan now.

"How is that possible! I was here for no more than five minutes!" the Doctor insisted.

Stan had had it with this crazy, creepy guy following them around. His patience was a lot larger than Kyle's but even he'd had it.

"Dude, you're insane! You apparently can't tell time, you live in a box, you've got funny markings all over you, you're always shouting and you don't even have a real name! Doctor. Doctor what! Is that some kind of porn name or something? You're a grown up following around little kids! We should be calling the police or something! Are you a rapist?"

Stan hoped this would be enough to make him just go away. He thought he'd driven home that he was unwanted when the Doctor frowned and started darting his eyes in calculation mid-way through Stan's rant. After a moment of pause, the Doctor, in a deep and serious tone, stared straight into Stan's eyes.

"What do you mean I have funny markings all over me?"

Kyle let out a grunt and started walking off again, but Stan felt he had to prove to this Doctor how insane he was. He grabbed the palm of the Doctor's left hand and turned it over, exposing the backside.

"Dude, these. These tally marks. What the fuck were you counting anyway? Looks like you got up to six."

The Doctor stared at the back of his hand in disbelief, quietly mumbling to himself.

"I need to get back to the TARDIS…"


	7. Farewell

**7. Farewell**

Al Gore had actually found tracks in the snow. They had hooves like a pig, but were in a single pair, rather than two pairs. Clearly, he was on the trail of an upright ManBearPig. The tracks were leading out of the forest and toward the base of one of the nearby mountains. It seemed serially, err, seriously, likely that the creature was living somewhere at the foot of the mountains.

Gore walked for hours. And as the evening turned to morning, he was getting bored of just walking. To motivate himself to keep moving, he reached into his pocket and grab his headphones and iPhone. Turning it on, he went to the music section of his phone and hit 'random." The introduction to Opeth's "Bid You Farewell" began to play. It wasn't as super hardcore as the other songs the former Vice President had uploaded to his iPhone since the divorce, but it'd have to do.

But just as soon as the song had started, Al Gore looked back to the ground and noticed the tracks he'd been following had disappeared. Gore spun around in disbelief, trying to find the trail.

"No. Wuh? No!" was all he could say at the futility of his situation. He fell to the ground, disheartened. It had escaped him again.

He stared through the barren tree line. He saw nothing but staggered trunks of leafless trees in the moonlight. But as he continued staring, and his eyes adjusted, he thought he saw a flash of two light a few yards away. Clearly it was unrelated to ManBearPig, but it might be his best way of getting out of these woods: the help of a stranger. Picking himself up, he began walking toward where he'd seen the flash of light, Opeth still ringing through his ears.

And then it caught his eye in the moonlight. ManBearPig. Standing there, staring toward the lights Gore had seen. It was about ten degrees to the right of the lights, and Al Gore ran toward the beast. ManBearPig snapped it's head at the ruckus, and then ran. Gore sprinted after it, but in his hurry, he slipped in the snow and fell face first into the ground, his headphones dislodging. He rolled over and got back to his knees, about to get up, when he saw what he'd fallen in front of.

"AWKWARRRD!" It shouted in a metallic voice, two lights on the sides of the top of it flashing, punctuating each syllable. Gore stayed knelt, frozen in confusion, before the speaking metal contraption pointed a metal appendage at him. The lights atop it flashing again four times as it spoke.

"EXTERMINATE!"


	8. Catching up with Cartman

**8. Catching up with Cartman**

The fucking Jew had cut him out again, he knew it. Stan had invited all of his friends to go with him to do something at Stark's Pond, but they made sure not to call him. It was outrageous, and clearly all Kyle's doing. Though none of them ever treated him fairly. You could even tell it simply in how they referred to him.

All the other kids their age had first names. Not Eric Cartman; he was only known as, 'Cartman' to them. Who knows who Eric could have been, what personality was buried underneath the veneer of Cartman. But it was too late; any other personality could have come from the boy, but not now. Now he was Cartman, and his vengeance was never-ending.

Tonight it was carrying him through the woods around Stark's Pond, following Stan and Kyle. He wasn't sure exactly what to do, but revenge was going to be cold tonight against the Jew.

Cartman wasn't exactly sure what they were here looking for. He had followed Stan to Stark's Pond, and the only one here was Kyle. As Cartman trailed behind them, walking alone through the woods, he began to wonder if this was something… gay. The two of them, through a moonlit stroll in the snow-laden woods. Sounded like a damn gay romance novel.

But he knew that Butters and Kenny had been invited as well, so Cartman let the thought pass. Kyle maybe, but Stan? Stan wasn't a fag, he liked football.

Cartman's train of thought was negated by a startling crashing sound from the woods. He tried spinning on the balls of his feet, but fell over and landed on his ass, causing a spike of pain. He heard a scream and covered his mouth, only to find the scream wasn't from him. It was coming from wherever the crashing sound was.

He snapped his head back to watch as Stan and Kyle sprinted toward the havoc. Cartman got up and started running, but was hobbling at half speed in comparison. The two other boys were out of sight quickly, and all Cartman had to go on was the general direction they had disappeared into.

After what seemed like hours of heaving and gasping for air in a dash, eventually Cartman came across where he assumed the boys had gone. At the bottom of a hill, glowing softly, surrounded by a sliding mist, was a small blue box.

Cartman blinked and took a step back. This box was familiar. He'd seen it before, he was sure. But he was also sure he'd never seen it before, as if the box were disappearing and reappearing in his memory. One second, he'd feel close to remembering what it was entirely, and the next second all that sense of recollection was meaningless. …the fuck?

But no matter how much he did or didn't remember the box, there was a feeling that stayed with him at the sight of it. Deep inside, he felt an unfamiliar, cold fire building in his chest. He took a step backward and sank behind a nearby tree for cover.

The feeling, not felt from Cartman for a long time, was fear. Outright fear. Maybe even panic. This box, whatever it was, struck fear in him. And he couldn't even remember where he'd seen it before.

Interrupting Cartman's attempts at recollection, the door to the box swung open. Cartman looked on, expecting to find Stan and Kyle. Instead, a tall, lanky man emerged, in a suit that looked like he had robbed a thrift store.

More embers for the cold fire. Something about this man, striding out of his box, was adding to Cartman's fear. This strange looking man, with his chaotically confident stride, was eerily familiar.

Soon after the man appeared, familiar faces reappeared to Cartman. Stan and Kyle, shouting at the man. The man ran back to them. Cartman couldn't see too well from staying out of sight, but it looked like he grabbed Kyle. He could vaguely hear their voices. The man sounded… British. More cold familiarity.

Soon, the two boys were heading away from the man, who quickly stepped forward to catch up with Stan and Kyle. And Cartman saw his chance.

He had to find out what this box was. Why did he remember it? Why did it scare him? What were those two assholes doing in there? And who was this man?

Cartman waited until it looked discreet, and slowly made his way down the hill, careful not to slip or cause too much commotion on his way. When he arrived at the side of the box, he stared at it wide-eyed. Being this close to it was causing the fear to escalate even further. He shoved the raging inferno into his depths and blinked. HE crooked his head to the side and examined. The door was open.

He had to step in, there was no choice. He couldn't come this close to this thing and not step into it. He pushed the door open wider and took a small step into the doorway. He stood motionless as he stared into the box.

It wasn't a box. It was a giant, metallic room. It softly hummed and whirred. It was bigger on the inside. And none of this was surprising Cartman as much as it should be.

That was the biggest surprise. He'd seen this before, been here before. He took another step inside, gave the door a push shut, and sat down in the doorway, leaning on it as he tried to remember more. He closed his eyes.

As if pulling the shades on his vision were turning on a movie, he saw images flash into his mind. A forgotten lifetime was catching up with Cartman. But the images moved too fast, he couldn't make out any of them. He opened his eyes in shock. What the hell is this!

"Okay," he said softly to himself, trying to reassure his inner self "Try again Cartman."

He closed his eyes again and fought the urge to push the torrent of images away. The first thing he could focus on was the blue box. He saw it, clearly. Cartman worked on reconstructing from there. What was around the box?

Nothing? Space! Outer space was around the box! And fire! And explosions! And screaming! But why, what was going on? Where had the TARDIS been that he saw explosions?

Cartman snapped open his eyes, realizing what he just remembered.

"TARDIS!" he shouted to no one but himself. "This is a TARDIS!"

Things were returning. He was in a TARDIS, a ship taking advantage of Time And Relative Dimensions in Space. And the giant center mass of the room was the console.

He stood up and slowly, almost in a trance, walked up the stairs and toward the console. He looked at the levers and knobs with half a sense of familiarity.

Stabilizers. Inducers. Thrust. He slowly walked around the console, mapping in his mind all of the things he could identify. He softly cursed at his small stature. If he were taller, he'd be able to see more of the console, reach more of the controls.

As he strolled around more, he found a large switch that was very familiar. "Engines!" he shouted! He jumped up as high as he could, which put him two inches closer to the lever. But it was enough, and the switch was thrown forward.

The entire room shook, the column in the center of the console began wheezing, and the mechanisms inside began pushing and pulling against each other. The room rumbled with the might and power of a rocket exploding to life.

Eric Cartman was in control of the TARDIS, piloting it, he knew not where. Everything was coming back to him though. Slowly, these memories of how to operate this ship were returning.

As the room lurched again and pitched him forward into the console, he caught himself from a nasty head collision with the underside. Stepping backward and finding relief on nearby leather seats, he sat and watched as the engines fired and the room rocked.

This ship was definitely his now. Sweet.

As he sat back in the seat, he blinked. The moving pictures in his memory hadn't stopped, and a new image appeared. It was a face, swollen and aged. But Cartman immediately knew who it was. This face he could see and remember now, despite never having seen it before. It was a face deeply ingrained into his memory.

Cartman slowly rolled open his eyes, staring through everything infront of him. He softly admitted to himself who the face belonged to.

"Dad?"


	9. What? !

**9. What!?**

"Dude, I don't even care. Whoever that guy was last night, he was fucking insane," Stan said as he sat down to his kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. Morning conversations with Kyle were a ritual at this point. If either one forgot, something was clearly wrong. From the other end of the line, Kyle picked up the conversation.

"Yeah, though I've been thinking about it. What if he's… you know, not human?"

Stan rolled his eyes, unbeknownst to his best friend. Of course Kyle was over-thinking it. He frequently over-thinks everything.

"Kyle, he's clearly just a homeless guy who lives in the forest. The only difference between him and other homeless guys is that his box is wood, not cardboard."

"But the inside dude, there was a couch or whatever, and that machinery and a lot of space..."

Stan didn't have anything to combat that at first. Even he had to admit that it was a good point, even if he didn't want it to be. It was definitely bigger on the inside.

"I don't know, maybe it's like those paintings where it looks like a hallway or whatever, but it's really on a flat wall." His voice got less confident at his theory as it went on, to the point of being flat out skeptical of his own suggestion. "Only with a whole room instead of, you know, a painting."

"So a homeless guy with a box that has a really good painting in it? Stan, we walked around in it!"

Stan found more confidence in his voice. "Either way, he's definitely not an alien. Remember that space bank robber alien guy, Baby Fart Tits McGee or whatever. That's what aliens look like. They don't look like… British!"

Stan could feel Kyle's eyes roll and his encyclopedic knowledge rising through his throat

"It was Baby Fark McGee-Zax, and he wasn't really a bank rob-"

"That's not the point! The point is, this guy was definitely British," Stan interjected.

As Kyle went on discussing how he still thought that the Doctor was an alien, Stan decided to let him talk and eat his cereal all the while.

"…Besides, he didn't say he was British. I mean, what do aliens sound like? Who knows? What if he sounded like he was from somewhere else… the south, or hell, the north. I mean, lots of planets have a north Stan!"

Stan's phone started beeping.

"Hold on Kyle, I've got another call." Stan pulled the phone away from his face and pushed a button. "Hello?"

"Stan? Oh my God Stan, did you hear!" It was Wendy Testaburger's voice, and she was clearly excited, and maybe worried, about something.

"What? Hear what?"

"Stan! Watch the news sometime! It's Al Gore. You know who he is, the form-"

"Yes Wendy… I know who Al Gore is…." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Either because his ex-girlfriend thought he was too stupid to know who Al Gore is, or because Al Gore's name itself came up. Having met the Doctor, Stan had forgotten all about the Vice President entirely. And he felt it was for the better.

"Stan, he's dead!"

"What!?" Stan yelled, but the shout didn't go through the phone as Stan let it slip from his hand. He pushed back from the kitchen table and turned on the first news station he found, who were mid-broadcast about Al Gore's death.

_"…cannot say what killed the former Vice President, but Al Gore's body was found a few miles from a small Colorado town called South Park. Early indications are that he was chasing after evidence involving the hot-button scientific issue of ManBearPig. We go live now to the scene, where Officer Barbrady joins us. Officer…"_

Stan turned away and sprinted towards his phone, grabbing it and shouting into it.

"Kyle! Kyle! Turn on the news!"

"It's still Wendy…"

"Oh! Right, sorry!" Stan said, before abruptly switching back to Kyle's call.

"Kyle!" Stan's voice was slightly panicked, and while he couldn't see Kyle, he knew it'd get his attention. Any time either of them was troubled, the other took the distress upon themselves as well.

"What?!" There was the sound of something falling in the background of the phone. Maybe a bowl. "Ah shit… What is it Stan?"

"It's Al Gore! Turn on the news! He's dead!"

"What!?"

Before Stan could explain any further, he heard the entire phone drop to the floor and footsteps. Kyle had done the same as Stan, run to the TV. Stan decided to walk back and listen to more reports come in, phone still in hand.

But before Stan could absorb too much information, there was a loud cracking sound at the front door. Stan snapped his head toward it as it was kicked in.

"I'm in a good mood and I like children, I think. So I'll ask nicely: Where the hell is my TARDIS?! I know one of you lot stole it!"

The word of the morning popped out of Stan's mouth involuntarily again.

"What?!"


	10. Remembering

**10. Remembering**

Cartman had climbed up to one of the seats opposite the TARDIS' control panels. He was starting to remember more and more of his full identity.

The clue that began to piece it all together was the British man that had sent so much fear into him. Once he remembered his self-given designation, the memories became more clear. The man held a special orbit around the center of his memory. The gravity of the impression he left on him pulling other memories along with it.

That man was called the Doctor, and he was one of Cartman's enemies. They had fought each other in that past. Cartman saw fires burning in space, and this Doctor laughing. He didn't look the same, this Doctor. His appearance was entirely different. But Cartman could see right through that. Appearance is but a façade of course, a trick of light and shadow that the eye transmits to the brain. What is true is often unseen. So was the case with the Doctor and his blue box.

Cartman was starting to suspect so was the same with him.

But the memory of the Doctor was pulling other memories along with it. Metal machines that he knew were also alive. More fire, and some of it having nothing to do with Cartman. Metal machines firing at the Doctor, and more people like him. The fires in space burning and burning. Time tearing open in impossible ways. The whole of creation with holes.

"Fucking sweet," Cartman said involuntarily, the impossible destruction replaying in his mind.

"Little boy, you shouldn't use such language," came a woman's voice from the other side of the control room, atop some stairs, standing just inside the doorway from the corridor. "You also shouldn't be here."

Cartman snapped his head towards the woman. She had curly blond hair that would otherwise make her unique. But it was her posture that struck Cartman the most. She looked like she owned the place. Her shoulders high with confidence, her stance authoritative and yet relaxed.

Cartman needed information. While his memory was returning, he hadn't figured it all out yet. And unlike everything else about the TARDIS, nothing about this woman was on the edge of his memory. Cartman decided the best idea was to play dumb.

He softened his voice to almost a whine, trying to make his voice sound insecure and worried.

"Wh… where am I? How did I get here? Who… who are you?" Cartman asked with a voice that sounded delicate and weak. The woman responded in the same tone, not softening a bit.

"Professor River Song," she said flatly, her stare unchanging as she stood there, one hand of hers inside her jacket. Cartman assumed this was on a weapon. "Little boys don't get lost and then swear with confidence. And they especially don't get lost inside the TARDIS." Her eyes narrowed as she began slowly walking down the stairs, toward the control console. "Who are you?"

It was a very good question, one that Eric Cartman was only starting to find out. All he knew was that this woman was likely a friend of the Doctor's, and he remembered the Doctor as being the enemy.

It was time for Cartman to act just as in-control as this River Song. He hopped down to his feet and began walking toward her, quickly formulating a plan.

"Alright, let's cut with the crap then. My name is Eric Cartman, and The Doctor sent me here to make sure the TARDIS was kept safe," Cartman said, all the sincerity returning to his voice.

River Song raised an eyebrow. "Safe from what? And why would he leave a little boy in charge?" Cartman smiled. That was a perfect line for him to use.

"Safe from danger. One of the potential dangers, he said, was a woman with a stupid name. I can only assume he meant River Song."

This line didn't work quite as well as Cartman had planned, and River Song snapped her arm out of her jacket, wielding a disruptor. However, her voice remained calm.

"Little boys shouldn't swear, and they also shouldn't lie. The Doctor would call me to protect the TARDIS, not hide it from me. Who are you? Really."

Cartman felt anger rising inside him. Every part of his body felt electrified, as if a massive electric charge were capable of shooting from him.

"You're breaking my balls, bitch. Do I look like I know who I am? I found this box, and I started to remember how to pilot it."

"You know how to pilot the TARDIS?"

Cartman rolled his eyes. "I just said that you fucking bitch. Got hearing problems?"

River Song was done being talked down to, but she also had her anger in check enough to set her disruptor to stun before she fired it at the boy. A green streak of light split through the air of the TARDIS and hit the boy square. It was promptly absorbed into him in a white shimmer of light, without hurting him in the slightest. He began laughing manically as River turned up the intensity on the disruptor and fired again, still with no effect.

"You…" Cartman couldn't stop laughing, and was only getting words out between breaths. "You… dumb… bitch…" It took Cartman a few more seconds before the laugh wore off. He continued. "You really don't know who you're fucking with, do you?"

The anger in his voice rolled off naturally. Cartman wasn't thinking anymore, he was being himself. His mind and body simply reacting to the woman.

River Song slowly shook her head no, trying to think of a counter-attack. But her plans were interrupted when she noticed the boy raising both of his hands, his palms facing her. As they pointed directly at her, she noticed they began glowing brighter. Swirling ribbons of blue and red light surrounded his palms as he shouted at her.

"I am Eric Cartman! And you will respect my authorit-ay!"

Suddenly the ribbons of light shot out across the TARDIS towards River Song. They swirled around her, the light intensifying to near-blinding levels. Then a loud cracking sound roared through the TARDIS, like a thunderclap.

As the echo from the noise faded, and the swirls of light dimmed, River Song was gone. A small amount of ash was all that remained of her on the step where she had been standing.

Cartman turned his hands towards himself as he stared at the ribbons of energy swirling around his hand, fading.

"Kick-ass," he muttered to himself.


	11. The Fatass has Your Spaceship

**11. The Fatass has Your Spaceship**

Stan was thankful that his parents were away and Shelly had gone to school early. The only way this morning could be an even bigger disaster was if this Doctor asshole was poking around his house with his parents around.

"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about. Is this... TARDIS thing... Your box?" Stan asked, standing in the middle of his living room motionless. It was still early morning, and Stan was never a morning person. While he had enough adrenaline running from hearing about the demise of Al Gore, he didn't want to deal with this crazy man right now.

The Doctor turned around and made a mimicking face towards Stan, repeating his words.

"Is the TARDIS my box... You know it's my box!" The Doctor pulled out the green flashlight device again. Stan had seen it at the diner the night before, but had ignored it. As he pointed it around the room, Stan debated whether or not asking what it was. But before he could decide to speak, the Doctor had more questions.

"So where is it? Your Transmat?" The Doctor turned to face Stan, pointing the green light right at him threateningly. Or at least, trying to be threatening. Since Stan had no idea what it was, he didn't feel threatened by it at all.

"Trans-what? I thought you wanted a TARDIS or whatever."

The Doctor threw his arms up in the air, shutting off the green light. His hands came to rest on his hips.

"You Transmatted my TARDIS, that's the only way it's possible. And I know it was a Transmat and one of you because of this!" The Doctor threw a billfold at Stan, who instinctively caught it. "Go on, read it!"

Stan opened the black billfold and saw a blank piece of paper behind a plastic sleeve.

"What, it's just a piece of paper dude. It's blank."

"It's not blank," the Doctor said, turning away and continuing his waving of the green flashlight thing. "It's Psychic Paper. It shows whatever you want the person to see. Sometimes I use it as ID, but in this case, there's a message on it."

Stan looked at it again, but it was still blank. "You're batshit crazy."

The Doctor turned around to face Stan again, rolling his eyes while his heels rolled. "You just have to believe it's real. When people see an ID there, it's because they believe they're going to see an ID. You have to believe you're going to see a message, then you'll see it."

"The fuck are you..." before Stan could finish the sentence, he saw the message. It was scribbled onto the paper.

The message said, "Boy has TARDIS. Transmatted to planet. Help!"

"Whoa!" Stand said, dropping the billfold onto the ground and stepping away from it. The Doctor merely raised an eyebrow at this. After a few seconds, he spoke, softer and less accusing.

"You really didn't take the TARDIS did you?" Stan looked up from the billfold to stare at the Doctor, who had taken a step closer to Stan, and he was now leaning into Stan's face slightly. "You don't know what I'm talking about at all. That psychic paper alone was enough to startle you. You couldn't handle a Transmat or a TARDIS." Stan's gaze fell back onto the billfold. However, his attention was broken when the door opened again. A friendlier sight walked into the room: Kyle.

Kyle took a step into the house, closing the door behind him without looking. His voice was soft, but confident.

"Where are you from?" Kyle asked.

"What?" was all the Doctor could manage to say. Partly because the Doctor was still suspicious of anyone who wasn't Stan. Partly because Stan himself didn't let the Doctor say anything else.

"Kyle, you have to look at this... psychic paper thing. It's crazy."

"Not now Stan," Kyle had taken his gaze to Stan for a brief moment, before turning back to the Doctor. "You're an alien aren't you?"

Stan would normally have scoffed, but at this point, shit was seeming freaky enough that maybe the extraordinary was possible. The Doctor stood up straight, looked down at the child in the green hat, and responded flatly.

"Yes. Yes I am."

"And that box, it's your spaceship,"

"It's my TARDIS. It's more than just a spaceship..."

"Yeah, I know. It also travels through time." Kyle had everyone's attention. The Doctor tilted his head slightly, digesting what the boy had figured out. Stan was just staring at Kyle, letting his best friend reveal what he knew, or thought he knew. Stan wasn't exactly ready to believe this yet. The Doctor took a small step towards the boy and began speaking, his eyes darting, still obviously thinking things through in his head.

"How could you possibly know that? Unless... Unless you're the one that stole it!" The Doctor lunged forward towards Kyle slightly, but Kyle didn't move, which made the Doctor stop his lunge, and study him even more intently.

"I didn't take it, but I have a good guess as to who did," The Doctor stood motionless, waiting for the boy to finish. "His name is Eric Cartman. He's a fatass, and it's exactly the kind of shit he'd do."

The Doctor looked around before asking hesitantly, "Why?"

"Because he's an asshole. If he found a spaceship, he'd steal it and set the world on fire or kill all the jews or something. That's just how he is. He's a fucking dick. He'd exterminate a person, a jew like me, without a thought. And now he can."

At the word exterminate, the Doctor stumble a step backwards. "Why? Why did you say the word exterminate?"

"Huh? I... I dunno! The words aren't important. The fatass has your spaceship," despite the profanity Kyle continued using, his voice was entirely calm, as if 'fatass' and 'dick' were facts, not opinions.

"Kyle... how do you know this? HOw did you even know he was here?" Stan's voice came from the other side of the room. The Doctor had forgotten all about Stan there.

"You didn't hang up your phone after you talked to me, I heard him here," Kyle said, explaining the last question first. "And think about it Stan. Remember his trick, about, 'who is the President?'" Kyle asked, as Stan nodded. "And we couldn't answer. Why couldn't we answer?" Stan shook his head, confused.

"It's because time is confused here," The Doctor softly interjected, and Kyle nodded in agreement.

"Time is all fucked up here Stan. And if time was fucked up, who would notice? Who would show up? No one going through normal time would, or could. It'd have to be someone who can travel through time. Thus, this retard," Kyle motioned his hands at the Doctor.

"Oi! Don't call me names! You might be clever, very clever, but you should be nice to your elders, and believe me, I'm quite an elder..."

Kyle tilted his head apologetically. "Sorry, maybe that was harsh dude..."

"It's okay Kevin, now what we need to figu.."

"My name's not Kevin you fucking asshole!"

* * *

**AN:** Sorry for the delay on updating the story. My Laptop died in March, which has pretty much devastated my day-to-day life. Among the things lost was the plot outline to this story. So I'm sort of reconstructing where I'm going with this. No dramatic changes, but I'm hoping I can tie everything up as neatly as I was in that outline. I really appreciate the reviews, most of which are just pleas for me to keep writing, which is really flattering, thanks! And I couldn't just ignore you guys, but I had to figure out where I was going!

More to come, hopefully soon!


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